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Isaac was a week past four months before Timothy realized he had reached another month-birthday. Isaac at four months was really different. It seemed that he had decided he liked living in the world. He smiled and kicked when Timothy came around the corner from the kitchen into the bigger room. The kitchen was tiny and terrible to cook in, but Timothy was glad to have a fridge to store cucumbers and watermelon. Their life started to take on a new rhythm. They woke at dawn. If it was raining, Timothy cleaned. Everyone had been telling him that the rains were unbelievably long this year, that in November it should be sunny already, that soon the sun would come and dry everything, that the skies wouldn't be so dark anymore, that his dreadlocks would dry out and stop smelling moldy. He was
